


Love and War

by Integral_of_Awesome



Category: Original Work
Genre: 440 words in which basically nothing happens, Distractions, F/F, Inappropriate Staring, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Integral_of_Awesome/pseuds/Integral_of_Awesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In my defense, they were really nice breasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and War

"Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer sex raises some pretty good questions."

-Woody Allen

 

I was staring at her chest again. I knew I should have been paying attention to whatever the hell she was saying about the possible end of the world or whatever, but all my mind was able to come up with was, _Breasts, breasts, breasts_.

In my defense, they were really nice breasts. Full, but not gargantuan; perky, but not jumping up at her chin. They started a nice, smooth curve in at her waist and then out again at her hips. Her tank-top clung to their shape and dipped low enough to get a generous view of cleavage.

I was still staring at her chest. Honestly, I should have had more self-restraint than this. I registered that she told me to stop doing that about five minutes ago, but I figured she was the kind of girl to tell you once and then assume that you'd never do it again.

She stopped talking and gave me _the look_. "Hey," she said, snapping her fingers in front of my transfixed-eyes, "I'm up here."

I glanced back up at her, looking appropriately admonished, even if I didn't feel particularly shamed. "If you're going to wear tops that low-cut and form-fitting, you can't possibly be surprised that I'd stare. I'm only human."

"I don't think it still counts as low-cut when it's the only thing in my closet."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "I'm pretty sure the state of your wardrobe doesn't effect the depth of that dip."

She rolled her eyes at me, adjusting her tank-top to try and hide the objects of my attention a little, but, honestly, the movement only brought my gaze back down.

She sighed, clearly more than a little frustrated. "Honestly, what's the big deal? It's not like you don't have them, too."

I looked back up at her, square in the eye. "I don't have those. Mine aren't anything special. Those are the Michangelo of breasts. Those are hand-crafted by God. Those are-"

"O.K, I get it!" she exclaimed with a wave of her hand, pretending like her cheeks weren't flushed pink (a fascinating shade I determined myself to study very thoroughly at a later date). "I'll get a different shirt, but can we please focus for a second on something besides my chest?"

I rolled my eyes. "What could possibly be more important than those?"

She raised a hand to her face, trying but not succeeding in rubbing away the frustration. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe just the impending end of the world?"


End file.
